While being with Skip, I didn’t care for anyone else, and it was a divine feeling to really love someone again. During peak hours he would jokingly help me out by serving drinks to my thirsty customers, and walk around with a white towel on his sleeve as if he really were the butler. In between we would make love and have long, sentimental conversations.
Skip’s favorite thirst quencher was beer. I can’t remember how many dozens of cans of beer I got him during those months we saw each other. He would even send my maid out to get it, and give her a generous tip afterward.
However, my “James Bond” was more jealous than Larry even. If Skip was in the house, I was not even allowed to close the bedroom door and discuss, in private, finances with my customers, since he thought I would “make it” with that man. Nor could I “chip in” on a swing or a threesome without Skip immediately threatening to walk out on me. Granted that I might have lost some income by giving up these extra activities, but Skip’s overall generosity, his fine body and mind – not to speak of the many red roses he sent – gave me quite some happiness for several months. Finally a combination of family problems and business pressures reduced our relationship to one of friendship, but we remain good friends, and there is still a warm and tender feeling for each other.
As Skip was sent sailing off, another ship docked, tied up, and looked as though it was here to stay. A Greek boy, Takis, about twenty-nine, came to see me about two girls he wanted me to meet. They were from Montreal, he said, and wanted to become my roommates. The doorbell rang, and here was this gorgeous young man built like an Adonis, dark hair, and green eyes exactly the same color as mine, except that he has got long black eyelashes. He has a baby smile on his sensuous, dramatic face. Only his nose is a bit small, in my. opinion, definitely non-Greek.
Takis and I caught fire from that very first moment we met. We made love almost immediately after his appearance, and he then more or less moved into my life and my apartment. The ship had docked. His tongue was warm and fast, and, I must confess, there has been no feeling nicer than having this Greek boy giving me head. He also knew exactly where to touch my body, blow kisses on my neck, and make love to me. Our rhythm was that of the ever-moving waves of the ocean. Come and go, up and down, back and forward. That’s how his lovemaking affected me.
Takis, a very emotional and sensitive person as it turned out, became one of the sweetest things in my life. He was good, kind, never impolite or rude. He was lazy in a way, since he loved to sleep late in the day, but so did my roommates, the two Canadians he had meanwhile introduced to me. They also had moved in with me, and all of a sudden the house was full of laughter and happy young people. Takis, to my knowledge, had never slept with either of the two Canadians. He had told me that in Montreal he used to be the boyfriend of a rather well-known Madam Carmine. So in other words he was used to the late hours, the many different men who came to patronize the house of Carmine. She had been about ten years in this business and managed to save a good deal of money, with which she was said to be rather generous.
Being Greek, Takis had one of the famous Greek weaknesses, and that was gambling. He would not, like most men might do, cheat on his girl friend, but the few nights that he did come home in the early morning hours he always confessed to me that he had gone to some after-hours gambling joint, where preferably his favorite Armenian game of “barbout,” a game similar to crap shooting, was played. Takis was constantly broke. I used to support him, not in great sums like Carmine allegedly did, but with a ten- or twenty-dollar bill here and there. One night when he left, all he had in his pocket was twelve dollars, but when he came home at ten the next day, he was exhausted but very satisfied – he showed me proudly how he had won with his small sum the big sum of two thousand dollars.
However, the money seemed somehow to burn the proverbial hole in his pocket, and like a masochist he had to go back to the tables and lose it all. Since it was not actually money from my savings or anything like that, I could never really get mad at him. Of course, I wished he would save his winnings or get a steady job, but lazy as he was at that time, he preferred to be the boyfriend, almost gigololike, of Madam Xaviera. Not that he ever purposely took advantage of me – that I can guarantee. It was always my own idea when I decided to be generous with him. And he never asked for a thing. Some days I would take him downtown and buy him some new shirts or some jockey underpants or a nice woolen sweater that revealed his sexy body even more. All this while, we really were tremendously turned on by each other, and used to make love night after night till sunup.
To be sure, it didn’t take Larry long to realize that my Greek boy who acted as bartender and played gin rummy with the customers was actually living in the apartment.
“Have you fucked Xaviera, Takis?” Larry asked bluntly on more than one occasion.
“Oh, no, of course not,” Takis would answer. “We are friends. I am happy to get the work and a place to sleep.”
I always denied that I made love to Takis, but Larry, of course, knew me too well to believe it, and finally, stupidly, I admitted that Takis and I did it. I am too honest to be able to lie.
When Larry heard this, he virtually threw Takis and me out of my own house, stating that since the apartment lease was in his name, I had no right to put another man in the house.
That morning, like a beaten-up dog, my Greek packed his one big suitcase and I checked him into a little hotel not too far away from where I lived. I paid the bill for the coming week, and at night he would sneak back into my house, when he knew that the coast was clear and that no jealous maniac, namely Larry, was there anymore.
This was an impossible situation, and it was ridiculous to pay a hotel on the side, while he as a matter of fact was still spending every night except the weekends – then Larry was there – with me. After a week I said to Takis, “This is crazy. Let’s stop throwing money away on the hotel. We’ll face reality and tell Larry he can’t stop us, from being together anymore.”
I decided to tell Larry about our deep feelings for each other. Amazingly, Larry took the news very bravely, almost fatherlike, although it was very hard for him to accept the three-way situation. Once again he was being cheated with his eyes wide open. His ego was crushed, and, what’s more, he liked Takis, who is truly an amiable person. Still, Larry couldn’t really blame me for being in love with this gorgeous boy so much younger than he, and finally agreed to accept the situation so long as I didn’t treat him badly or embarrass him in front of other people.
The high – or low – point of this uneasy triangle came when we spent a summer weekend at the beach home of friends in Westhampton. Larry and I had a bedroom together, with an adjoining bathroom, and beyond the bathroom was the bedroom given to Takis.
The first night, as soon as I thought Larry was asleep, I sneaked into the bathroom and locked the door to Larry’s and my room and went into Takis’ room. But Larry was not asleep and was listening at the bathroom door, trying to peep through the keyhole. Takis and I were so horny, I first gave him a blow-job, and as I later found out, Larry heard me washing my mouth out afterward. Then he even heard when I put my diaphragm in and went back to Takis for my straight lovemaking. When I finally returned to the room I shared with Larry, he was furious, and we had a big fight and he threatened to walk out. While I didn’t want to lose Larry, I could understand that the weekend was going to be a depressing experience for him if I were horny for Takis all the time. We went to bed, still together, but still upset. Whatever I do, it is not in my mind ever consciously to hurt Larry.